


through the night

by captain_kriegy



Series: beat [1]
Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-09 01:36:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7781800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_kriegy/pseuds/captain_kriegy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ali is admitted to a mental health facility after she tries to kill herself. ashlyn is her roommate. </p>
<p>they're both broken, but they're building something. </p>
<p>*prequel to the beat that’s in my heart (it’s keeping me alive)*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! 
> 
> Yes, this is the prequel to my Ali/Christen/JJ fic "the beat that's in my heart (it's keeping me alive)". It takes place a few years before the story begins.
> 
> If you haven't read that fic, that's totally fine! If you have read it, it'll give you a little more context going into this, but you really don't need to have read it. 
> 
> Also, this story deals with difficult themes of a mental health facility. It is not graphic, as it focuses on recovery, but it does mention overdose, self harm, and suicide.

Ali doesn’t remember much about the first few days. She vaguely remembers her family, a few friends, and the hospital staff coming in and out. The hospital staff poke her with needles and ask her questions. She doesn’t remember if she ever answers them. Her family cries, and her friends pretend they know the girl in the bed. They don’t. 

She’s in pain, but it’s kind of numbing. They keep her on the pain medicine, so she sleeps most of the time, and when she’s awake, everything is a bit fuzzy. After a few days, they send her to another hospital. She doesn’t fight when they transfer her to a stretcher and tell her where she’s going. She doesn’t care at this point. 

Her family leaves her then, once she’s in the new hospital. They cry again as they hold her close. 

“I want Kyle,” Ali whispers to her mother. It’s the first time she really speaks from her heart since she tried to kill herself, and it sends her mom into a whole new set of sobs. 

“Alex… me too, baby,” she tells her, holding her close. Ali feels stiff, like she can’t relax. Her mom eventually pulls away, and strokes her face once before they finally leave. 

 

“Alexandra Krieger?” A nurse asks. She’s also young, like Ali. “I’m Lauren, I’m going to be conducting your intake today.” 

Intake is awkward. Lauren, who seems quite sweet for all intents and purposes, asks invasive questions. 

“When was the last time you hurt yourself?”   
  
“What day is it?” Ali asks. 

“Thursday. March 5th.” 

“It’s been about a week since I tried to kill myself,” Ali replies. 

“So that was the last time you hurt yourself?”   
  
“Do you seriously think I hurt myself in the psych ward while on suicide watch?” Ali snaps. 

“Miss Krieger, I need to ask you these questions. I realize they are personal and invasive, and you don’t know me and I don’t know you, but in order for us to admit you and begin to take this journey back to health with you, we need to ask.” 

Ali softens a bit after that, with a simple. “Okay.” 

Lauren asks her a few more questions, before motioning for her to get onto a scale. Lauren covers the scale while she weighs Ali, which piques her interest. She thinks about asking, but decides against it. 

“Okay. Your bags should be in your room. I’ll bring you there now,” Lauren starts. “You have about an hour until lunchtime, which is in the cafeteria. You don’t have any group sessions today, just so that you can settle in. But you have an individual session at 4, and then dinner at 6. The schedule is on your nightstand.” 

Upon reflection, it looks much more like a motel than a hospital, which Ali appreciates. There are two beds in her room, meaning she’ll have a roommate. 

“I just want to prepare you, there are cameras both in the bedroom and bathroom. You need supervision if you want to shave. If you want to socialize with people other than your roommate, you have to do it in the common room. Nobody is allowed in your room besides staff, you, and your roommate. No cell phones, so if you need to call someone, you need to do it in the atrium phone. You get one phone call per day and up to fifteen minutes per day to use the phone. Sunday is visiting day, and you are allowed up to two visitors. Your visitors need to be approved both by you, so we will  not allow anyone in who you do not wish to have here, and us, so we are not going to let anyone in without searching them and without making sure they are not of danger to anyone. Any questions?” Lauren asks. Ali looks around her room, the light wooden nightstand next to her twin bed, her soccer duffle bag on the ground, and the plain blue blanket on her bed.   
“Your roommate should be back before lunch. Her name is Ashlyn.” 

“Okay,” Ali replies. “Thank you.” 

Lauren leaves her alone with that, and Ali sits down on her bed. She doesn’t even want to know what is in her duffle bag, but she doesn’t like the clothes she’s wearing. Her mom had brought them from her dorm room, but the shirt clings to her skin and the sweatpants are her team pants. Why her mom thought she would want to wear clothes labelled with the name of the team she let down she will never understand. 

Ali slowly unpacks her bag, putting her clothes into a drawer and her toiletries in the bathroom. Ali narrows her eyes when she notices that half the cabinet in the bathroom seems to be filled with men’s products, and slides hers in next to them. She tries to figure out her roommate by her visible possessions. Her bed is made, but otherwise, she seems a bit messy. On her nightstand is a sketchpad. Ali doesn’t dare go to close to any of her belongings, instead returning back to her side of the room. She pulls a pair of black leggings and a thin plain blue sweatshirt out of her drawer, before changing out of her clothes. She takes a moment to run her hand across the bandages on both of her wrists, and over the angry scars on her upper thighs. She realizes how much smaller she is than she used to be, her muscle tone almost entirely gone in only a few months. Her abs are no longer defined, her stomach instead flat. Her thighs aren’t as thick. Even her shoulders and back are less filled out. She no longer looks like an athlete. 

Ali pulls the leggings and sweatshirt on over her boyshorts and sports bra, before tossing her hair up in a loose bun. She sits down on her bed, over the comforter, and pulls the folder on her nightstand into her lap. Inside it lies a paper schedule with her activities for the day. 12:00 lunch. 4:00 individual session. 6:00 dinner. Tomorrow is a lot more intimidating. 9:00 breakfast. 10:00 group. 12:00 lunch. 1:00 individual. 3:00 group. 6:00 dinner. 7:00 evening activity. Ali assumes she’ll do her time at this facility the way she’s done the past few months. Just going through the motions. 

A few moments later, a tall blonde walks into the room. She looks Ali’s age, and is wearing a simple pair of black joggers and a black long-sleeve tee shirt. Her hair is also up in a bun, and she smiles gently at Ali. 

“I’m Ashlyn,” she says, walking towards her own bed. “Lunch is starting any minute. I just stopped in to put my stuff down,” she informs her. Ali nods, and stands up, also leaving her folder on the bed. 

“I’m Ali,” she replies. 

Ashlyn doesn’t talk much, but neither does Ali, and the silent invitation she gives her to to sit next to her at lunch is much appreciated. The food looks absolutely disgusting, and Ali scoffs at it silently. A few people introduce themselves to Ali, and she tries to force a stiff smile as she tells them her name. It’s not until lunch is more than halfway over that Ashlyn speaks up. 

“They won’t let you leave unless you eat it,” Ashlyn remarks. Ali raises an eyebrow. The chicken, potatoes, and broccoli on her plate look less than appetizing. 

“What?” Ali asks. “Why?” 

“It’s policy.” 

“I don’t have an eating disorder,” Ali replies. 

“I don’t give a shit what you have or don’t have. Everyone needs to eat. I’m just trying to help, but feel free to be rude to me,” Ash snaps in response. Ali falls silent, immediately feeling guilty. 

“Sorry,” Ali mumbles. Ash softens, placing her hand next to Ali’s on the table. 

“I’m sorry. I’m still working on anger. I realize the rules here take some getting used to.” 

 

Ali has three full hours off, so she decides to explore the common area. There’s a table with coloring pencils and coloring pages as well as blank paper. Ali sits down across from another resident, and picks up a coloring page. It’s all a bunch of intersecting circles, which comes off as tedious and boring to Ali, but she figures she has three full hours with nothing to do, and begins coloring. The resident across from her appears to be a bit older than Ali, and Ali tries to ignore her, until she asks for her name. 

“Ali,” she replies, not even looking up from her coloring. 

“You must be new. I’m Jo,” she replies. She has short hair, and Ali looks at her with a critical eye. 

“I’m not interested,” Ali states. Jo studies her for a moment, trying to figure out what is going on in her head. 

“Interested in me introducing myself, or?” Jo asks. 

“Anything,” Ali replies. Jo falls silent then, allowing Ali to continue her drawing in relative peace. Jo doesn’t say anything until almost an hour later, when Ali is about a quarter of the way finished with her drawing. She’s switching between the purple and green colored pencils when the older girl catches her eye. 

“You know, you aren’t going to get very far here without talking to people,” Jo says. 

“I really don’t feel like talking to anyone,” Ali admits, resuming her coloring with the green pencil. 

“Nobody does. At first at least.” 

“So, what are you suggesting?” Ali asks. 

“I don’t know. I’m just trying to give you a little advice, Ali,” Jo replies. Ali just nods, not even looking up, and Jo eventually gets up and leaves her alone in the room. Well, as alone as she can be with the staff atrium directly to her right. 

It’s a long three hours until her first session, but the hour spent with her intake therapist, Tiffany, is even longer. Tiffany has to ask her a lot of questions, some similar to those Lauren asked her, and some a whole new level of invasive. 

“Do you have a family history of mental health problems?” Tiffany asks. 

“I was already asked this,” Ali started. 

“I know. But it’s important you be the one to tell me.”   
  
“My brother struggled with addiction to drugs and died of an overdose a few months ago,” Ali replies. 

“Is that all you know of?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Had you struggled with any mental health issues before your brother’s death?” Tiffany asks. 

“Probably,” Ali replies. “Nothing… nothing like this. But I was barely afloat,” she admits. 

“When was the first time you hurt yourself?” 

“The day I got home from the hospital after my leg injury,” Ali tells her. 

“Was that the first time you had thoughts of self harm?” 

“No, but it was the first time I followed through.” 

At the end of the hour, Ali heads back to her room. She has almost an hour until dinner. She pulls out the little journal that is sitting on her nightstand, and tries to begin her first entry. 

_ March 5th  _

_ It’s my first day. I’m empty.  _

She can’t come up with anything else to write. Writing about what she did feels like too much effort. She can’t write about feelings because she doesn’t have any. 

 

Dinner is the same as lunch. She silently sits next to Ashlyn, and the other women around them look similar to people she saw at lunch, but she honestly hasn’t paid enough attention to notice. Dinner is pasta with tomato sauce and meatballs. A bit more appetizing than lunch, but it still takes an unprecedented effort and almost the entire hour for Ali to finish the meal. 

After dinner, everyone heads back to their rooms. Curfew is at 10pm. They have three hours. 

“Do you mind if I shower first?” Ashlyn asks, as soon as they walk in. Ali nods, and sits back down on her bed. Ashlyn only takes about fifteen minutes in the shower, and when she surfaces, she’s just wearing a towel pinned around her chest with her blonde hair soaking wet down her back.   
  
“Are you going to shower now?” Ash asks. “Otherwise I’ll change in the bathroom.” 

“Um, yeah,” Ali replies. Ashlyn raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, it’s just. Awkward.” 

“Showering?” Ash asks, before realizing what Ali is getting at. “The staff is going to see you naked, there is nothing you can do about it,” Ash adds. “You have to ring the bell if you want to shave, they’ll bring a razor and watch you. It’s dehumanizing and horrible but you have to believe they do it so that we can get better.” 

Ali nods. “So, if you are so nonchalant about the staff watching you shower, then why don’t you want to change in front of me?” She doesn't know why she asks, but Ash doesn't seem the type to be shy. 

“I was trying to be respectful,” Ash replies. “Not everyone likes to see other girls naked.” 

Ali laughs. It’s a short laugh, but it’s probably the most hearty laugh she’s had since all this began. Ali knows that staff can see what’s going on in their room, and doesn’t want to set off any red flags, so she holds off on her reply until she has to pass Ash to get to the bathroom. 

“Trust me, I have no problem with naked girls,” Ali whispers. She smiles a bit deviously, not even bothering to look at Ashlyn’s facial expression while she heads to the bathroom. 

 

Her and Ashlyn don’t talk again before bed, but Ali opens her journal once more. 

_ March 5th, Evening. _

_ I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed and really felt it.  _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> includes mentions of suicide attempts, drugs, and sexual assault (nothing is graphic)

       Ali doesn’t sleep. It’s scary, she’s lonely, and she doesn’t recognize herself. She sits up awake, until late into the night. At one point, around three in the morning, Ashlyn gets up to go to the bathroom. Ali closes her eyes, trying to pretend she’s sleeping, but anxiety has taken over in the middle of the night, and she knows she’s shaking, she can hear the covers ruffling with her movements. Ash notices on her way back to her bed, and comes over towards Ali. 

“Ali?” She asks. 

“I’m okay,” Ali whispers in reply. 

“Oh, okay. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t  having a nightmare,” Ash replies. 

“Thanks,” Ali says, a small smile on her face as she opens her eyes.

“My old roommate used to have nightmares,” Ash starts. “I used to wake her up whenever I got up to go to the bathroom.” 

“I don’t have nightmares. Just insomnia.” 

“I’m sorry,” Ash says, running her fingers down Ali’s arm. Ali welcomes her touch, melting into it. 

“It’s okay,” Ali replies. “Get some sleep.” 

“Alright. Let me know if there is anything I can do.” 

 

Her first full day is absolutely exhausting. Her morning starts with a group session, which, though less awkward than she anticipated, is still rather awkward. Some women share openly, happy to have a forum to relate to others with. Others, like Ali, stay as quiet as they possibly can. 

“I know you’re new, Ali, but I hope to hear more from you on Monday,” the leader of the group tells her before she leaves. She simply nods. She doesn’t know if she’ll be up to talking any more on Monday. 

 

During her hour break before lunch, she heads back to the coloring area. Much to her surprise, Ashlyn is there, coloring away. Ali scoffs at the fact that her roommate has hoarded all of the different shades of blue colored pencils. She takes a new coloring page, and begins by plucking one of the blue pencils out of Ashlyn’s pile. 

“Well, hello to you too,” Ash says, with a bit of sass. Ali laughs once. 

“You can’t… take all the blue pencils,” Ali insists. 

“You stole mine just to make a point,” Ash contests. Ali nods, and smiles gently. They don’t speak any more, simply coloring in silence until time for lunch rolls around. Ash lets Ali share the blue pencils with her. 

 

“Are you settling in well?” Tiffany asks during her individual session. “How is your roommate?”   
  
“She’s nice,” Ali says. “Pretty much the only person I talk to.” 

“How have you been sleeping?”   
  
“I don’t,” Ali admits. 

“At all?” The brunette asks, her hand on her chin. 

“At some point I fell asleep, but it couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours,” Ali explains. “It’s been like this for months.” 

“How did you cope with your insomnia beforehand?” Tiffany asks. “Sleeping pills?” 

Ali shakes her head. “Pills scare me. I, uh,” Ali starts, blushing. 

“Look, there’s no room for blushing here. Whatever you’re about to say, I’ve heard it. I’ve heard very wild ways to stop insomnia,” Tiffany tells her. 

“I usually…masturbate,” Ali admits. “It doesn’t always do it, but sometimes it just makes me tired enough to fall asleep. That’s obviously not an option when you have a roommate.” 

“I see the predicament,” Tiffany states, not even batting an eye at Ali’s admission. “This challenge will be good for you.”

“Everything is a challenge,” Ali says. “I don’t need more challenges.” 

“What has been the hardest about being here so far?” Tiffany asks, diverting Ali’s attention from her grumpiness. 

“Not having any privacy,” Ali adds easily. “Knowing I’m being monitored makes me anxious.” 

“That’s totally normal. I would be worried if it didn’t. But know… people aren’t staring at you while you’re changing or showering or sleeping. It’s just in the background, so that they know if something is happening that they need to know about. It’s for your safety and security.”   
  
“I get it,” Ali replies. 

“So. Ali. Can I ask you one more question today? And then I’ll give you some tips for sleeping tonight.” 

“Yeah.” 

“What do you hope to gain from your time here?” 

Ali thinks about it for a minute. She doesn’t really know. 

“To not feel like I’m drowning. I used to have so much purpose and feel so valuable and now I feel….” Ali trails off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

“Like someone willing to take their own life?”   
  
“I don’t want that,” Ali admits. “I don’t… I just want to go back to how things used to be. I miss my life. I never wanted to die.” 

“Most people who attempt suicide don’t want to die, they just want to escape.”  

 

Ashlyn is quiet. Ali is also quiet, well, at least, she is these days. They rarely talk when they’re around other people. But, sometimes, at night in their rooms, they have simple interactions that keep Ali going throughout the day. 

“How was your first full day?” Ashlyn asks, as she changes into her pajamas. Ali looks over at her, because you always look at people when you’re talking to them, and tries to pretend she doesn’t suck in a breath when she focuses on Ashlyn’s bare torso. She’s dressed in just a sports bra and tight boxers as she changes. She’s skinny, and a bit frail, but she’s beautiful. 

“Hm?” Ali asks, forgetting what Ashlyn had said. 

“How was your day?”   
  
“Oh. Long,” Ali replies. “I’m tired.” 

“Maybe this crazy schedule will help you sleep,” Ash offers. Ali smiles gently. 

“Yeah. Maybe.” 

 

_ March 6th, Evening _

_ What does purpose look like when you lose everything? I’ll never be anything.  _

 

It takes Ali a few days to get used to the culture of the place. There aren’t many sessions on the weekend, so it’s a lot of sitting around and listening to other people talk to each other. Some of them are withdrawn, like Ali, and others share intimate details of their life seemingly without a care. It’s a bit off-putting, for the most part. This isn’t group, Ali doesn’t need to hear about their eating disorder or see the scars on their arms. Ashlyn is more outgoing, but not in the off-putting way. She doesn’t talk about her life, but she engages easily with other people. She listens and they talk to her. Ali just sits to the side and observes. When the pretty brunette who had been talking to Ash gets up, Ali finds herself standing and grabbing a colored pencil. She wordlessly hands Ash the blue pencil, who laughs once. Ali takes this as an invitation to sit down. 

“You’re interesting,” Ash tells her. Ali raises an eyebrow, intrigued to see where this is going. “You’re funny and nice but I literally know nothing about you.” 

“It’s been two days,” Ali replies. 

“We live in the same room and all I know is that you like to write in your journal,” Ash points out. 

“You know I have insomnia.” 

“I’m not trying to pressure you,” Ash explains, and Ali nods. “But I’m Ashlyn. I’m originally from Florida. I moved to Massachusetts when I was fourteen. I ran away at fifteen. I stayed in a shelter for a few years, tried to get my life together, get a GED, whatever. Two years ago I found out my brother, who was my only familial connection and best friend, was off at state college, and overdosed and died. I was already really depressed and struggled a lot. When I found out, I got drunk. And I never drink, it was the one thing, drugs and stuff, that I really stayed away from. Anyway, I’d lost a lot of friends to drugs over the years, but my brother? That hit me hard. I tried to kill myself while I was drunk. A friend found me and called an ambulance. I’ve been here for a few weeks. And that is a very abridged and shortened version of my life until this point.” 

Ali doesn’t say anything. She just nods, and places her hand next to Ashlyn’s. She knows there is so much that was untold. Why did she run away? Why was her brother her only family? What kind of shelter was she in? But she doesn’t ask or speak at all. Ashlyn places her pinky finger on Ali’s, and Ali smiles softly. 

_ March 7th, Evening _

_ I’m not a shy person. I don’t recognize myself as a shy person.  _

 

“I want to tell you about myself, but I feel dumb,” Ali admits the next day. They’re just relaxing in their room. Ali is reading a book and Ashlyn is coloring. 

“Start small. What’s your favorite color?” 

“Blue.” 

“Favorite animal?” 

“Dog? I guess. I’m not a huge animal person,” Ali admits. She can see she shock on Ashlyn’s face, and smiles. 

“You know, pretty much everyone here attempted suicide. There are a few people here who were in danger of dying from eating disorders or other medical complications of mental health problems, so everyone has flirted with death. So, if you feel dumb for attempting suicide or whatever, don’t, we’ve all been there.” 

“I didn’t know that,” Ali responds, a few minutes later, quietly. “I’ve lived a really privileged life. I was the captain of the varsity soccer team at college and then I broke my leg. And I was told I wouldn’t play again. I almost died from complications from surgery. Then, when I was in the hospital, I found out my older brother overdosed and…” Ali trails off, trying to control her tears. “I never…. I hadn’t spoken to him in almost a year… I didn’t. Say goodbye or that I loved him. I think we all expected him to hit a rock bottom and get help and he didn’t get that chance, he didn’t get to get better, he’s gone. I couldn’t…. I didn’t take it well. I fell into pretty deep depression. I starting cutting myself a lot. I became really withdrawn, I wouldn’t leave my room, the whole thing. I attempted suicide and my roommate was supposed to be staying over with her boyfriend but she came by to grab something and found me before I bled out,” Ali explains. “Six months ago I was one of the best college soccer players in the country. Now I’m…. here.” 

The way Ashlyn looks at her, with empathy and care, it makes Ali feel safe. Ashlyn had, of course, realized how similar what had pushed them over the edge was. They’d both lost their brother to drugs. 

“Can I…. sit with you?” Ashlyn asks, slowly getting up from her bed. Ali nods, moving over. Ash sits down next to Ali, and wraps an arm around her. 

“I sound pathetic,” Ali admits, resting her head against Ashlyn’s chest. “What you’ve been through…..” 

“It isn’t a contest,” Ash reminds her. “We’re all in a hard place and that’s why we’re here. It’s not a contest. Your pain is valid. Your feelings are valid.” 

“What was  your brother’s name?” Ali asks. 

“Chris. Yours?” 

“Kyle.” 

“Tell me about him,” Ash offers. 

“He was hilarious. Always really outgoing. But growing up, he was kind of in a tough place. Our parents divorce hit him really hard. He’s always been kind of feminine, and though he didn’t come out until college, everyone kind of knew before then and that was hard for him. And once he did come out, our dad was kind of shitty about it, which is it’s own thing. He always wanted a masculine son, and that’s not what he had. I don’t know. It was weird. My dad was so much more… like lax with me than he was with Kyle. He was just so proud of my athletic accomplishments that he didn’t care about much else. I wasn’t exactly forthcoming about the fact that I was hooking up with girls, but I’m pretty sure he knew, he just, didn’t care. But anyway, it was hard for Kyle with me being this big soccer star and stuff. He was a good guy, though. I really believe that. I love him so much, and I just, I can’t believe he’s actually gone,” Ali rambles.

“Tell me about Chris,” she adds, a breath later. 

“He was my protector. We grew up in a tough environment. We got taken away from our parents because they got arrested for possession when I was pretty young. We were in the foster system for a while, then we were put up for adoption. It’s really unusual for siblings to get adopted together, but we did, when I was like fourteen, Chris was sixteen. We moved to Massachusetts. Chris always kept an eye on me, made sure I went to school. I also played soccer. Was a goalkeeper. My adoptive family was amazing until they weren’t. Chris didn’t know at first, but when he found out… it was pretty bad. He used to sleep in my room with me so that….well. The dad was sexually….with me. And so Chris would stay in my room so that he couldn’t. Since the wife didn’t know. Anyway, he really didn’t want to leave for college, leave me there. But it had been good, so I thought I would be fine. Once he left… it got really out of hand. I just became. It was horrible. And so I ran away. I ended up in a shelter for gay and transgender kids who ran away. Most of them had run away because they weren’t accepted or whatever. I wasn’t even really out then, but I stumbled upon the place and they were willing to take me in. Chris would come visit me all the time. He was really my only family at all. But I just. As we got older, I got to see him less. He was trying to graduate. I was trying to stay alive. He was clearly the one who was more put together. I thought he had a future. I didn’t even realize he was into drugs. I felt so blindsided by it. He was more reserved than I am, but he was such a good guy. A giant teddy bear. My protector,” Ash explained. She feels dampness on her shirt, and when she looks down, she can tell Ali is crying. 

“Shit, Ali, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Ash starts, running a hand through Ali’s hair. 

“It’s okay,” Ali replies. “I’m sorry. For all you’ve been through. Nobody deserves that. Chris sounds amazing. I’m sure him and Kyle are getting along great right now. Up there cheering for us to make it out.” 

“I like that thought,” Ash responds. They just sit in silence for a few minutes, until Ash goes to start talking again and realizes Ali’s breath has evened out, and she’s fallen asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone!!! i know i know, it's been forever. and i can't promise it won't be forever again lol. but i felt like writing after the painful spirit loss tonight and this happened. 
> 
> please tell me what you think of how it's going so far!!!! 
> 
> love you all. thank you so much for sticking with me and my chaotic life.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think about this fic so far in the comments section! 
> 
> If you don't already, please follow me on tumblr at captain-kriegy.tumblr.com


End file.
